


When There's No One Else

by Hammocker



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Cute, Fatherhood, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Music, Parenthood, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: Yondu was used to surprises, used to having to pick up slack and make things work. He hadn't thought anything could faze him until he and Kraglin found a kid on the side of the road.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To make it clear: this is an AU story retelling Peter's somewhat forcible adoption by Yondu in the context of he, Kraglin, and the Ravagers as largely unremarkable humans. I haven't thought out the implications this change has in regards to the existence of superheroes in the universe, and, frankly, I don't care to. It's just a cute little story about Yondu and Kraglin being Earth redneck dads instead of space redneck dads.

The road was a blur around Yondu. Factories, fields, and forests, all going by like they were nothing at all. The farther out he got, the more stars faded into view, framing the moon. Cars passed by here or there, but, for the most part, everything was quiet. It was nice to be back out towards the countryside, back home. Yondu wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to cities and their hustle-bustle, but that’s where anyone who was anyone made a living. And Yondu Udonta was not gonna be no one, that was for damn sure.

Kraglin was half-asleep in the passenger’s seat. He’d been working his ass off the past couple of months, and Yondu figured he deserved the break. Hell, they both did. Good jobs got done, money was made, what else could anyone ask for?

Apparently, even more of their time. But they needed the off-time, no matter what. Making a couple million wasn’t worth much compared to some private time with Kraglin. He almost wished he’d known that before he stuck his nose in the business. Then again, he wouldn’t have met Kraglin in the first place had he not done that much. Life was funny that way.

After a while, Kraglin’s light snoring disappeared. He didn’t think much of it, didn’t even really notice, not until Kraglin spoke up.

“Hang up, slow down.”

Yondu snapped to attention at the request. A voice after so much quiet was a shock to his ears.

“Wassa matter?” he asked, stepping gently on the breaks.

“Thought I done saw somethin’ on the road.”

Yondu gave him a skeptical squint of his eye. “Roadkill?”

“No, no, I seen roadkill, that weren’t anything like it, looked like a person.”

“Betcha someone dumped a body and run off,” Yondu sighed, even as he pulled over and stopped the car. “S’pose we best have a look. Can’t have corpses in our backyard.”

Kraglin pushed the door open and hopped outside, trundling back a-ways. Yondu grabbed his shotgun as he got out, keeping it at his side while he trailed behind. You never knew who or what might jump on you in the backwoods.

By the time he got to Kraglin, he was knelt down at what indeed looked like a body. A little body, just laying on the side of the road. Skinny boy by the sight of him, with only his clothes and a backpack on him. Looked like the kid had collapsed on his way out of the woods, passed out exhausted. How long he’d been there, though, that was the hard part.

“Dead?” Yondu asked, quick and blunt.

“Sorta looks it, but, uh-” Kraglin prodded a couple times at the kid’s neck before glancing up at Yondu. “Beatin’, real faint-like.” 

“Shit,” Yondu muttered, the need for a snap decision coming down on him like a cinderblock. He wasn’t any good with kids, certainly didn’t want any in his house, but this kid was gonna die if they didn’t do something. It wasn’t Yondu or Kraglin’s problem, no sir, but leaving a kid like that? He wasn’t that cold. Goddamn, how long had the boy been there?

“Hold,” Yondu ordered, handing the gun off to Kraglin.

“What’re y’thinkin’?” Kraglin asked, standing up and out of the way.

“Ain’t leavin’ a kid on the road, that’s what I’m thinkin’” Yondu knelt down to haul him up into his arms. “Not that kinda sonuvabitch.”

“Shouldn’we be takin’ him to a clinic?”

“Nearest one’s thirty miles out.” Yondu started back out towards the pickup, figuring Kraglin would follow. “We got five more to cover. S’already risky, ain’t pilin’ on.”

“Takin’ him home? Sure we wanna do that?” Kraglin asked, taking on a more shifty, doubting tone. 

Yondu turned his head to give Kraglin a raised brow. It was not the time for asking questions like that.

“Ain’t much for medicine or nothin’,” Kraglin added, silently deferring with his lack of eye contact.

“Cold’n exposure’ll kill him faster’n anythin’ else,” Yondu said, as though he hadn’t explained to Kraglin exactly why sleeping outside with no protection was a bad idea before. “Better just keepin’ him outta that. Deal with whatever else later.”

Yondu opened up the door and sat the kid down inside. He grabbed up the thermal blanket from under the driver’s seat and arranged it over him. It might not be enough in the long run, but between that and he and Kraglin’s body heat, it’d at least be enough to keep him from freezing.

Even as Kraglin got back in the car, he still had the same uncertain air about him. Yondu couldn’t fathom why. Kraglin had never had a problem with kids and he certainly wasn’t any colder than Yondu. It was strange, but Yondu couldn’t bring himself to care right then.

Yondu shut the door on his side and started the truck back up. Once he got going, he made a point to keep a faster pace than before. Even with all the movement and noise, the kid didn’t even make a twitch out of place, and he certainly didn’t wake up. Yondu just hoped he wasn’t hypothermic. It got cold at night, and that wasn’t healthy for someone his age.

But then, they couldn’t do too much if he was, so Yondu resolved to not think too hard as they drove home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thing, the POV will swap between chapters. Shouldn't be too hard to tell who's narrating.

Peter’s head swirled as he grew aware of his surroundings. Was he dreaming? It felt like it. There was nothing Earthly around him; it was all just a blurry, shadowy mess of moving shapes. Wherever he was, it didn’t make much sense.

Still, he made to sit up, grabbing for anything to prop himself up. He felt scratchy fibers in his hand. Maybe a couch or blankets. Was he at his grandpa’s place?

His grandpa. That was right, Peter had run away. He hadn’t had a thought about it, he’d just started running and hadn’t wanted to stop. He still didn’t want to stop, really. Had they found him out there? He had no idea how far he’d gone. He remembered in the fog of his mind sitting in a rumbling bus or two. Running some more. Past that, it was all black and murky.

“Well, lookit that, yer up,” someone said from somewhere behind him.

Peter jumped up and scrabbled to get away, falling off what must have been a couch in the process. He was still having trouble seeing, but he could see enough to scramble off in opposite direction.

“Whoa, whoa there,” the voice continued. Peter caught the sound of something clanking together and used that as means to direct himself.

“Slow down’er, I ain’t lookin’ t’hurtcha.”

Peter could barely understand what he was saying, whether for the thick accent or the buzzing in his ears, but he was absolutely not slowing down. There had to be a way out, had to be...

“Stop, yer gonna-!”

Peter didn’t hear what was said before he knocked his head right into something hard. He stopped then, reaching his arms up to grip his pounding head and cover his face. He was so tired and he didn’t know where he was and his mom was gone and everything was crashing down and he had nowhere to hide. A grim realization came over him: tears had started dripping down from his eyes. Everything hurt.

“Kid?” the voice said, coming closer, too close. “Y’didn’ hurtcherself didju?”

Peter curled up further into himself, doing his best to ignore whoever it was. He just wanted it to go away. He wanted everything to go away.

“Kid?”

Something touched his arm and Peter panicked. Without a thought, he lunged down and bit hard.

“A-ah, Jesus shit!” came the sharp yowl.

The arm, as it turned out to be, immediately tried to pull away, but Peter wouldn’t let up. He clamped down, allowing himself to be dragged along.

“Lemme go! Lemme go!” whoever it was cried out to no avail.

Peter only bit down harder. It felt good, putting someone in pain right then. He couldn’t place why, but he didn’t want to stop. He wasn’t going to stop. Whoever this was, he’d kept Peter from running so he deserved it anyway. 

“What the hell is going on here?” a new, more commanding voice demanded.

Peter blinked his eyes open then, his vision finally seeming to have cut up with him. His gaze wandered upward to the face of the man he was biting. He was a dirty-looking kind of guy, greasy short hair, unkempt scruff on his face, and crooked teeth. Peter released his jaw, unsteadily getting to his feet.

“He bit me!” the first guy whined, holding his arm to his chest. “I toldja this weren’t a good idea.”

“What were ya doin’, doofus? Askin’ to get bit?”

Scruffy guy scurried away from Peter, leaving him to scan the room. Wherever he was, it was tiny. Maybe some kind of cabin? He only spotted a few doors, one leading out, and a couple leading into other rooms. Aside from that, there was only a divider into a compact kitchen. Late day sunlight filtered in through a couple windows, and- hold up. The door out!

Peter made a break for the exit, only for the towering wall of muscle to reach out and catch him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there, where y’think yer goin’, boy?”

Peter squirmed and wriggled against his grip, fighting towards that door. He couldn’t be here, he had to keep moving. He didn’t know to where, but he had to.

“Yer welcome to run off’n get et if y’want, but don’t you think y’might needjer things?”

Peter hesitated at that. That’s right, his stuff. Wait.

“What’d ya do with it?!” Peter demanded, digging his nails into his captor’s arm without even thinking about it.

“Nothin’, nothin’, s’all fine, we ain’t rooted in it,” he said, letting go of Peter and backing off. “‘N maybe y’want a lil’ some’in to eat too, huh? Ain’t had a thing in a while, have ya?”

Peter’s stomach growled at the mere mention of food. He glanced up at the man’s face. The guy was broad-shouldered, square-jawed, and sporting a short mohawk kind of haircut. He was scruffy, but not as messy as the other guy, and he wore a worn tank top. His skin, from his wrists to his face, was almost a golden tan color, like he’d been in the sun too long, but it got pale around his neckline and shoulders. He half-smiled down at Peter, showing off teeth even worse than his friend’s. Peter didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so big in his life.

“Yeah,” Peter said, going lax. “Okay.”

The guy let him go and backed off a bit.

“Yondu Udonta,” he introduced himself, holding out a rough hand. “And you are?”

Peter stared at Yondu’s hand for a moment, wrinkling his nose.

“What kinda hick name is “Yondu”?” he asked.

Yondu cackled at that, throaty and rough.

“‘s mine, tha’s what kinda name it is.” Even as he talked, he kept his hand outstretched. “Makes any difference, we call him Kraglin.”

Yondu tilted his head towards the other guy, who’d slunk up against a wall. His face was twisted to a sour note, maybe because Peter’s bite still hurt. It looked like Peter had run himself into the sticks, for sure.

Peter let out a puff of air through his nose. No use fighting, and if he got on this guy’s good side, he might have a better chance making a break for it later.

“Peter Quill,” he said at last, reaching out to take Yondu’s hand.

They gave one firm shake and Yondu nodded with approval at him.

“Good seein’ y’got some sense in yer head.”

He turned back towards the door out and glanced back over his shoulder at Kraglin.

“Fire up the stove, got some good shit out there’,” he instructed.

Kraglin jumped to obey, despite his grimace, heading for the kitchen without a word. Yondu headed back outside and left Peter on his own. It gave Peter time to look around more thoroughly and find his pack on the seemingly homemade coffee table. He about pounced on it, grabbing it up and looking through its contents. Everything was just like he left it, his mom’s gift, the walkman, the tape. It didn’t look like they’d touched anything. Good.

He took out his player, put his headphones on, and sat back down on the couch. With a click, 10cc started in his ears once more, just where he’d left it. It was a small comfort, a small thing that stayed the same no matter what he did, but it was enough to keep him from going crazy. He drew his legs up to his chest and tried to lose himself in the music.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was quiet. Kraglin wouldn’t talk and barely touched his meat, and most any sounds came from Peter scarfing down whatever Yondu put in front of him. He wasn’t picky and he hadn’t asked any questions about what he was eating or drinking. Yondu couldn’t complain, seeing as it might be hard to explain to an urban kid that there was nothing wrong with coyote and muskrat meat. Kid was skinny enough as it was; he didn’t need any help from being picky.

Every now and again, Peter would hesitate and glance around the kitchen, like he’d never seen anything like it before. And maybe he hadn’t. The only things in the room that Yondu hadn’t made with his own two hands was the cast iron wood stove, the fridge, and the sink. Everything else, the counters, the shelves, even the table and chairs they were sitting in, all of it Yondu had cut, assembled and sanded himself. He wondered if it was obvious. He wouldn’t have minded if it was.

“So where’re ya from, kid?” Yondu finally asked, leaning forward on the table to look at Peter.

Peter’s eyes flicked over to him and he chewed slowly as he thought about the question.

“Missouri,” he said, though, it sounded more like “misery” on Peter’s tongue.

Yondu’s eyes narrowed at him. “That a town? Or a street?”

Peter shook his head and Yondu balked.

“Well, Peter, y’ran all the way to Tennessee,” Yondu informed him, somewhere between horror and amazement. “Christ, how long were you out there?”

Peter shrugged. “Dunno. A day, maybe more.”

Maybe he’d been on the south end. Or maybe the kid was just lucky. Or maybe he was lying through his teeth.

“Y’some kinda runaway? Got any family?”

“No,” Peter said, a little too quickly. “I’m not ‘n I don’t.”

Yondu narrowed his eyes. Peter definitely wasn’t telling the whole truth, that was for sure, but the real question was why. Yondu’s mind jumped to some sort of abuse by whoever had been looking out for Peter. He didn’t look battered or anything, but Yondu had had his fair share of brushes with below-the-neck beatings. It was only one of hundreds of possibilities, Yondu had to remind himself. One way or another, Peter didn’t want to go back wherever he came from and it was on Yondu to figure out whether he should or shouldn’t.

“So, where y’thinking you’re gonna go now?”

“I dunno.” Peter jabbed a strip of coyote with his fork and twisted it. “Away from stuff.”

“Well, aintchu lucky?” Yondu asked. “‘Bout as away from stuff as you’ll get out here.”

Peter didn’t answer. He clammed up, and looked away from Yondu like he had something more on his mind. Kraglin, on the other hand, looked at Yondu like he’d turned blue, a look he knew all too well. They were gonna have to talk.


	4. Chapter 4

“We can’t jus’ keep him here!”

Kraglin paced across the room, coming closer and closer to hitting their bookshelf on one end and the wardrobe on the other. He was barely able to look at Yondu, who was already on their bed. He gnawed on his nails here and there, trying his best not to think about every horrible outcome he could think of. “He ain’t ours!”

“So what, hm?” Yondu asked from the bed. He’d stripped to his briefs and spread out comfortably across the bed. “We turn him in? Hand him on over to the fuzz ‘n leave it up to them? Might as well start turnin’ each other in.”

“That ain’t the same and you know it!” Kraglin cried, turning to glare at Yondu. He bit his lip and pulled his arms to his chest. “Someone’s prob’ly lookin’ for him right now. We can’t just- he could belong to someone!”

“Keep yer voice down, dummy, walls’re thin,” Yondu hissed, nodding to the door.

“I ain’t wrong and you know it,” Kraglin repeated, quieter this time.

Yondu didn’t say anything; all he did was give Kraglin a stern frown and pat just below his chest. Kraglin hesitated to react, fidgeting in one spot. But, just like always, Kraglin gave in. He would have been screwloose not to.

Kraglin dragged his feet to the bed and knelt down on it with his arms against his chest, stiff as a board. Yondu rolled his eyes and dragged him down onto his side, pulling him close. Like a thousand times before, Kraglin put his arm around Yondu and all-but-clung to him. He rested his head against Yondu’s collar, letting Yondu massage down his shoulders. Kraglin relaxed into him, surrendering to the creeping drowsiness in the back of his head.

“I ain’t plannin’ on keepin’ him,” Yondu soothed. “I jus’ think I need t’hear more ‘bout where he came from and who best to take him to. I don’t wanna hand him off to someone we can’t trust.”

“Why’s it matter?” Kraglin whimpered, aware of the pathetic twang in his own voice.

“‘Cause he’s not a bad kid. Don’t want to waste him.” Yondu was back in a more comfortable, soft manner of speaking. “Could be useful at his size, squeeze in vents ‘n lil’ nooks we can’t get at.”

Vents and nooks. Sure. Kraglin knew an excuse when he heard one.

“Don’t think he’s gonna steal all my attention, do ya?” Yondu asked, offering Kraglin a gentle smile.

“No,” Kraglin half-lied, even as he pressed his face up against Yondu’s chest like he might die if he didn’t.

“Aw, baby.” Yondu’s fingers came up to card through his hair and Kraglin hummed at the sensation. “Nothin’ gets between us, not Hell or kingdom come. Y’know that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Kraglin murmured, anxiety melting off of him like candle wax.

“‘Course y’do,” Yondu chuckled. “What’re you thinkin’, comparing yourself to some kid. Ain’t no contest here.”

Kraglin couldn’t help but grin a sleepy grin at that. Praise like that always hit the right notes with him, smoothed him over. He knew it, but he couldn’t help but give in to it.

Kraglin felt Yondu reach over past him for something, and, with a click, the radio came on. Despite everything, Kraglin relaxed at the familiar sound of Billy Joel from over the waves, and even moreso at Yondu’s thought for him. Yondu never would have put on music otherwise.

With that done, Yondu rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Kraglin and bringing their faces close. He stole a kiss before tucking Kraglin’s head beneath his chin.

“Love you, sweet thing,” he said, so quiet that Kraglin might swear he hadn’t said it at all. But he knew that his ears didn’t lie and neither did Yondu.

The words were enough to lull Kraglin towards sleep. Maybe Yondu was right. Maybe the kid wasn’t something he needed to worry about. It wasn’t permanent. They had work after all, and they couldn’t just bring a kid to that. Yondu had a plan, just like he always did, and once things were done, they’d be done. Kraglin trusted him to make the best decisions for both of them, just like he always had.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter still couldn’t remember exactly how he’d gotten to this cabin in the woods, but it didn’t take more than a day to decide he didn’t want to be there. The haze that had clouded his mind was clear enough, and he wanted to keep moving. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to stop moving, and that scared him a little, but he still wanted to go. Maybe he’d just join the circus or slap together a raft and float down the Mississippi River. That couldn’t be too far now.

It was the morning after Peter had woken up to the weird hicks who’d taken him in. Peter had spent the night sleeping on the couch with an admittedly cozy blanket covering him. No one bothered to wake Peter up and no one even seemed to be around as Peter’s eyes cracked open. The only sound was the chirping of birds. No feet shuffling, no chatter, no cars passing by. Peter couldn’t remember it ever being this quiet at home.

_Home_. That wasn’t a good way to call where he’d come from. It wasn’t home there, and it wasn’t home anywhere anymore. It sure wasn’t here.

Peter sat up and stared around the room. Everything smelled like sawdust and pine, with a bit of ash, and it was obvious why. The walls, tables, chairs, just about all the furniture was made out of wood. The fireplace in front of the couch was well-worn, with plenty of logs sitting next to it. The only things that didn’t look like they’d give him splinters were some funny little knick-knacks on the mantle.

Neither Kraglin or Yondu were anywhere to be seen. Peter thought for a split second that he might just have dreamed them up. The entire past two days sure seemed like a dream.

Peter got to his feet and looked to the door leading outside. It was ajar, showing off the screen door behind it. Without another moment’s hesitation, Peter slung his backpack over his shoulders and made a break for it.

He pushed the wooden door out of the way, and it gave a chilling _creeak_. Peter flinched before shoving the screen door open and hurrying outside.

Peter squinted in the sunlight. The cabin was in the middle of a clearing surrounded by towering trees and thick shrubs. The only sounds were the chorus of birds and insects chirping. Leaves and twigs littered the ground, outlining things like a grill pit and a pile of logs and a shed, almost as big, but not quite as tall as the cabin itself. Near the edge of the clearing sat a black Jeep next to an wide, but unpaved path through the woods. That was his best bet to get out, but he didn’t even know where it went. Or where he was exactly. But then, he hadn’t when he’d started either so-

“Peter?” Kraglin called from the cabin.

Peter jumped and sprinted right into the woods, any strategy or sense of direction forgotten. He crashed through bushes and plant life with one goal: get away.

He ducked around tree trunks and over rocks in what felt like a straight line, but the scenery made it seem like he was going in circles. Peter couldn’t have said which it was really, and he only thought about it in flashes. He wasn’t sure if it really mattered.

Sooner than later, Peter had to stop to catch his breath. He stopped in his tracks and panted, turning his head back and forth. It all looked the same, the trees, the bushes, the plants, and there was no end in sight. Peter couldn’t have even retraced his steps; he’d just gone too fast. He stared upward, finding sunlight few and far between beneath the thick treetops. Every now and again a spot or two would shine through, but it wasn’t much. He couldn’t imagine it at night.

The thought of having to spend the night in the woods sent a chill down his spine and made him swallow thickly. He hadn’t meant to run to the woods. Maybe he hadn’t meant to run away at all. Yondu and Kraglin had been real nice to him and now-

A twig snapped behind him and Peter jumped up to start running again. As quickly as he’d started, Peter’s foot caught on a root and he fell hard on the ground with a thump.

A long shadow cast next to him, making the forest floor even darker than it already was. Peter didn’t breathe as he turned over. Towering over him was Yondu, staring down with a crossbow held in one hand. He didn’t look very happy at all.

“What the hell are you doin’?!” Yondu shouted, glaring down at Peter.

Peter winced as he desperately searched for words. “I-”

“I coulda shot you, y’know that?!” Yondu barked, hauling Peter to his feet by his shirt collar. “Never sneak up on a huntin’ man!”

Peter yelped as he was forced to stand on his left foot, and stumbled in Yondu’s grip. Right away, Yondu froze, but he didn’t let go. Rather, he set the crossbow down and ushered Peter into sitting on the forest floor.

Yondu didn’t speak, but as Peter glanced up at him, he found that Yondu didn’t look so angry and scary anymore. Maybe a little scary, but only because he looked scared himself. That little spark of fright that Peter remembered his mom having when Peter got hurt, it was there in Yondu’s eyes. Peter didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Where you hurtin’, boy?” Yondu asked, cold and to-the-point.

“My foot,” Peter said, barely above a mumble. “The left one.”

Yondu didn’t say a word, just gently lifted Peter’s foot up by the heel and gently pushed it back. A flash of pain shot up through Peter and he grunted.

“That hurt?” Yondu asked, like he didn’t already know.

Peter only nodded.

Next he put firm pressure on Peter’s ankle. “And that?”

Nothing. Peter shook his head.

“‘S only twisted, you’ll be fine,” Yondu said, that spark of fear melting away. “But y’oughta stay off it. C’mon.”

Yondu picked up his crossbow again before scooping Peter up under one arm. Without thinking Peter latched his arms around Yondu’s neck, using the hold to balance himself. Yondu barely seemed to notice as he started back to the cabin. He’d barely even acknowledged Peter since he’d yelled. Sure, Yondu had talked to him, asked him questions, but it didn’t feel like yesterday or the day before that. It seemed like Yondu was annoyed with him, and Peter could understand why.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered after a while.

Yondu didn’t reply right away. He might have glanced at Peter, like he was thinking about something, but Peter didn’t have any idea what.

“You couldna known,” Yondu said at last, easing back into his usual collected demeanor. “Jus’ don’t come into the woods without me, understand?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I just- I don’t know what I was tryin’ to do.”

“Well, If y’wanted to leave, you coulda just asked me,” Yondu told him, like he could read Peter’s mind. “Get where you’re goin’ faster that way.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t want to go anywhere anymore; all he wanted was to lay down and listen to his music. The Mississippi River idea was stupid anyhow.

He found himself shutting his eyes and drooping against Yondu, even though it couldn’t have even been noon. Exhaustion just seemed to creep into his head and he couldn’t fight it. And why should he? Yondu had taken care of him before and he sure didn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime soon. He wasn’t Peter’s dad or anything, but- well, he was something. Peter didn’t know what, but something.

On that thought, Peter dozed off in Yondu’s arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Days went by, and Peter was no more keen on giving more details about whatever had happened to him. He barely said more than a few words at a time. Past the incident when Yondu had found the kid in the woods, most of what he did was sit around with that little player of his. Yondu didn’t know what kind of hurt the boy had been through, but he did know that he couldn’t just let Peter sulk all the damn time. If he wanted either of them to get anywhere, Yondu was gonna need to be more proactive.

“Y’ever hunt, Peter?” he asked one morning while Kraglin was still asleep. “Ever handled a gun?”

Peter was curled up in the corner of his couch. He looked up at Yondu with more apathy than anxiety and shook his head.

“Well then, yer learnin’ today.”

Yondu coaxed Peter’s headphones off and placed them down in his lap.

“Put’em away and come on.”

He heard Peter shuffle to comply, and made his way to door, kicking it out of his way. Yondu didn’t bother to look back to make sure Peter was following; he just trusted that he was. He made his way over to his weapons shed, just to the side of the cabin, and fished its key from his pocket.

It took a moment of fiddling with the lock, but sooner than later, the door opened and Yondu strode inside. He gave a glance back and found Peter in the doorway, staring inside with something between curiosity and intimidation. Smart kid. He’d learn fast.

Yondu turned to his rack and resisted the instinct to grab his crossbow like he was used to doing. Peter was only a little thing still. He needed something lightweight. After a moment of searching with his eyes, he picked out one of his smaller pistols and slid it out.

Yondu strode back out, gun in hand, and Peter backed off, seemingly on instinct. It gave him the room to lock the door again.

“First rule,” Yondu started, turning to face Peter. “Don’t ever point a gun - or anythin’ like it - at anythin’ y’wouldn’t destroy.” 

Yondu held out the gun sideways at Peter’s level. Peter eyed it suspiciously and kept his arms at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what Yondu wanted him to do.

“Well, go on, take the thing,” he invited, leaning forward a bit. “Ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

At last, Peter stepped forward and put his hands on the gun, just next to where Yondu was gripping it.

“Y’point it at the ground whenever you can. Got that?”

Peter hesitated, glancing from Yondu to the gun with a mixture of fear and awe. That was a good sign at least. Kid hadn’t been around firearms, that much was obvious, but uncertainty was better than being reckless. He’d learn to respect the weapon faster that way.

“Yeah, I got it,” he said at last.

Yondu let go and Peter, after a moment of balancing the gun, held it squarely so the barrel was angled down.

“Good boy,” he said with a smile.

Motioning for Peter to follow, Yondu turned to head deeper into the woods.

“Where we goin’?” Peter asked.

“Clearin’ I know. Don’t want to wake up Kraglin when we start firin’.”

“We’re gonna- Now?”

“Mhm,” Yondu said, giving him a lazy nod. “Can’t learn to aim ‘less you fire a few rounds.”

“But- I’m only just gonna be eight.”

Eight. Seemed about right an age, looking at Peter. Yondu could just about hear his little heart beating fast.

“I wasn’t a day older’n five when I learned,” he reassured the kid. “‘S just like ridin’ a bike. ‘s easy, you’ll learn fast, ‘n y’ain’t gonna forget.”

Peter said nothing to that, but Yondu felt the doubt coming off of him in waves. Poor kid probably had barely seen a gun let alone been trusted to use one. Damn shame, but better late than never.

As they came to the clearing, Yondu ushered Peter up in front of himself

“Alright, y’can hold the gun upright now.”

Peter gave him a look, wide-eyed and uncertain of himself. Still, he relented and held the gun forward, a little crooked, but good enough for a beginner.

“You’re gonna want your writin’ hand on the trigger-” Yondu leaned down to put his hands over Peter’s and coax them into the right place. “-and your other supporting your hold.”

Peter followed his gestures with little resistance and quickly found the right positions.

“Good. Now try’n look right down the muzzle, tha’s how you’re gonna find your mark.”

He let Peter shift the gun in his hands as he found the right place for his eyes to be. Yondu could feel a bit of a shake in Peter’s grip so he held steady.

“See the tree right in front of you?” Yondu asked. “Cypress, thick trunk, piny further up.”

Peter nodded, swallowing thick like Yondu was gonna ask him to climb all the way up the tree.

“I want you fire at the trunk. Don’t worry ‘bout hittin’ nothin’ in particular, you just pick a spot and go for it.”

Peter still didn’t say a word, but Yondu felt him sweep the gun to the right, where the tree was. Yondu kept him steady as he found his aim.

“You got it?”

Peter nodded.

“It’ll kick back a bit when it goes off, but it ain’t nothing to be scared of,” Yondu warned, adjusting his grip a bit. “Whenever you’re ready, fire. Squeeze more than you pull.”

He felt Peter stiffen up even worse, but he didn’t ask any more questions. The next couple of seconds were a tense exercise in patience. There was a quake going through Peter, an uncertainty like he might not have it in him to shoot at all. If he couldn’t do it today, then-

And just like that, the gun fired. The sound of wings flapping came from above as birds scattered, and a mark was left on the tree. Yondu brought his head up to get a better look. The mark wasn’t centered at all, and Peter would need to work on his shooting, but he’d gone ahead and done it. That was all he needed.

“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Yondu said, nodding with approval. “How ‘bout we try again tomorrow?”

“That’s- what?” Peter asked, staring up at him. He’d paled to a ghostly white, but he seemed more confused than frightened.

“What, y’think I’m gonna have y’track a buck deer first day you’ve held a gun?” Yondu teased, giving Peter an easy smile.

“I just figured- you’re sure that’s it?”

“Mhm, tha’s all I wanted. Jus’ want you to know how it feels to use a gun. You did good, kid.” Yondu gave him a pat on the shoulder and took the gun from Peter’s hands. “Let’s get you back now.”

He turned to leave and Peter followed just like before. It wasn’t the same, though; Peter wasn’t trotting behind him like he’d done before. Instead, he dragged his feet a bit, like he’d done when they’d first picked him up. Like something was weighing on his conscience.

“You doin’ okay, Peter?” Yondu asked, slowing to let the kid catch up.

Peter didn’t answer right away. “I- I dunno. It’s just so- loud. I dunno if I can get used to it.”

“Ah, sure, you will, ‘specially if you’re gonna be out here.” Yondu narrowed his eyes and glanced back towards Peter. “How long you plannin’ on bein’ out here anyhow?”

“Dunno,” Peter repeated. “I don’t got anywhere else to be.”

“Well, I don’t know if I believe that. Someone’s gotta be missin’ you.”

Peter flinched, but shook his head.

“No. I ain’t from nowhere and I don’t got no one.” His voice broke halfway through the sentence. “It’s all gone.”

His wording made Yondu grit his teeth. He stopped and turned to face Peter before he spoke again.

“My mom’s gone,” Peter said, completely flat and dead. “She was sick.”

“Your old man?” Yondu asked, gently as he could muster.

“Never had one.”

Yondu’s eyes softened, and he gave Peter a sympathetic frown. Poor kid really was as alone as alone could be.

“I- I didn’t even hold her hand. Peter sobbed, tilting his head down. “I just couldn’t. And then I ran away and left her and- and-”

Yondu kneeled down in front of Peter, looking him right in the eye.

“Please don’t make me go back,” Peter begged. “I can’t do it, I can’t.”

“I’m not gonna make you do anythin’.” Yondu reached out to place a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You want to go back, you say the word, but I ain’t making you.”

Peter’s lip quivered as he fought tears, but it was a losing battle. After a moment of silence, the kid broke into tears and all-but-collapsed forward onto Yondu. Yondu brought an arm around him and soothed down Peter’s back. What else could he do but that? Yondu had never really had to deal with kids, but it felt natural. Peter needed to know he still had something, even if that something was some stranger who’d picked him up off the road.

That was how they stayed for a long while, Peter crying his eyes out onto Yondu’s chest and Yondu rubbing his back. The boy was young and grieving and he needed this. Yondu knew as well as anyone what it was like to have nothing

It was Peter who decided when he needed to pull away. He did so after what must have been ten minutes at least, and Yondu let him go. Peter didn’t say anything; he just stood there, letting his breathing even out.

“You ready?” Yondu asked.

Peter nodded, holding his chin up. Yondu half-smiled at that. Tough kid.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Yondu promised him as he stood up. “Y’hear me, son? You’re gonna be fine, I’ll make sure’a that.”

Peter stared up at him with wide, trusting eyes, and, for the first time, Yondu was intimidated by the kid. Maybe he’d stepped over the line with making promises, maybe it wasn’t his place to be doing any of this. But if he didn’t, then who would?

“Come on now,” he said, turning brusquely to head back for the house.

Yondu made a mental note to pick up earmuffs next time he was in the city.


	7. Chapter 7

Kraglin blinked his eyes open as morning sunlight fell on his face. He tried to bury his face back in his pillow, but it was already too late to go back to sleep. He’d always been a late riser, but by some kinda osmosis, Yondu had persuaded him to get up with the birds. Stupid things chirped loud enough that he didn’t have any other choice.

As Kraglin groped for any sign of Yondu, all he found was a lukewarm place beside him. He whined his disappointment and bunched up the soft top blanket against his face. It wasn’t any real help, but it smelled like Yondu and musk and animal skin, and it put him at ease.

Kraglin groaned and shoved the blankets off of himself. He rolled out of bed all too literally, nearly falling to the floor before he could plant his feet. He hauled himself up, stretched his arms above his head, and wandered over to the wardrobe to find some pants.

It took a moment or two of groping around the shelves before he finally found a pair. He lazily pulled them on without a thought to it before stepping over to the door and pushing it open.

Still no Yondu in the living room. The kid was asleep still, but Kraglin didn’t think it’d matter if he was awake. Best of times, Peter just sat there; worst of times, he sat there crying. He never knew if he should talk to the kid either way, let alone what he should say. Kraglin liked reading, sure, but he’d never been good with words himself.

Kraglin shuffled along, glancing into the kitchen just for the hell of it. He knew damn well where Yondu would be at this hour: outside, either killing something or cleaning his guns. So he headed for the door and pushed his way out.

As he glanced around, squinting in the sunlight, Kraglin saw no sign of Yondu. Their shed wasn’t open so he wasn’t in there or even around there. He pricked his ears at what sounded like shuffling somewhere off to the side of the house.

Kraglin followed the noise and, sure enough, he found Yondu kneeling down about ten feet away from the adjacent wall, holding a tape measure that bridged the gap between. He’d seen Kraglin, for sure, but he didn’t say anything right away. Kraglin’s sleep-addled brain couldn’t comprehend what Yondu was trying to do. So he asked.

“What’re you doing?”

“Thinkin’,” Yondu told him, like that much wasn’t obvious. “How the hell do you work out an area again?”

Kraglin snorted and sleepily smiled at the question. Sometimes he thought that Yondu kept asking silly little math questions like that just to make Kraglin feel smarter.

“‘S jus’ the length multiplied by the-”

The cold reality of what Yondu was really doing hit Kraglin like a ton of bricks. The pieces fell into place all at once. His smile disappeared.

“Ah, no, no, no, you _ain’t_.”

“Ain’t any closer to gettin’ measurements, tha’s for sure,” Yondu mumbled, retracting the tape and standing up.

Kraglin stormed up to him, fingers twitching at his sides. “You said you weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ him!”

“And I meant it,” Yondu said, meeting Kraglin’s eyes with cool confidence. “But that plan ain’t gonna work no more. I talked to the kid the other day, and he ain’t got anywhere to go.”

“Oh, y’ _talked_ to him,” Kraglin echoed, taking on a cruel tone that was usually foreign to him. “And y’didn’ think you should call someone and tell’em we got a runaway?”

“He watched his mom die,” Yondu said, direct and monotone.

The color drained out of Kraglin’s face. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but if Yondu did, well, that had to mean something.

“And he ain’t never had a father.” Yondu frowned, brow turning up in a silent plea. “I promised him I wouldn’t make him go, and I don’t believe it’d do any good to make him.”

Kraglin whimpered, any certainty he’d had on the matter gone out the window. He knew Yondu always had a good reason for doing what he did, but this was turf they’d never set foot on before.

“You really think we can take care of him?” he asked. “We’re- we’re not- I’m not-”

Yondu reached up and put a hand on Kraglin’s cheek, bringing their faces inches apart.

“I need you with me on this, Kraglin,” Yondu said, taking on the most solemn, genuine tone Kraglin had heard in a long while. “I know I’m askin’ more’n I ever have and it might be a tough change, but I need you.”

He didn’t like it. It was as simple as that, he just didn’t. But Yondu had never led him astray in his life, not after he made it clear that he was serious. Things always worked out for the best somehow. Kraglin trusted Yondu, but he never felt that as viscerally as he did just then.

“I- I wouldn’ abandon you,” he said, shaking his head. “Not ever.”

“I really hope you mean that, ‘cause I’m gonna ask you a favor.” Yondu’s hand drifted down to his shoulder and he hesitated to continue. “I need to go into Jackson by the end’a the week, an’ I’m askin’ you to look after Peter.”

Kraglin swallowed thickly, but he kept his reaction muted.

“Couldn’ we jus’ bring him? Our place has room.”

“I ain’t puttin’ that on Peter, not yet anyhow. Right now, the boy needs some stability.”

Kraglin hated to admit it, but Yondu was making nothing but sense. He nodded his head in quiet resignation, making to turn and head back inside. That was the end of the conversation.

Yondu caught his arm and pulled him back, keeping them close together. The hand that had been on Kraglin’s shoulder snaked down his back.

“Well, where’re you goin’, sunshine?”

A flush came over Kraglin at the nickname and Yondu’s tone. Kraglin couldn’t help but face Yondu again. His expression had gone from cold and solemn to a warm, familiar, downright _suggestive_ smile.

“I ain’t been lookin’ after you right, have I?” Yondu asked, all that natural gravel turning to honey on Kraglin’s ears. 

Kraglin made a noncommittal grunt, not sure if there was a right answer to that question.

“Mm, no, I haven’t,” Yondu said, pushing Kraglin gently towards the cabin. “Ain’t right’a me. You shouldn’t ever hafta worry about gettin’ my attention, and sure as hell never out here.”

Sometimes Kraglin thought Yondu had some kind of psychic eye powers. For the life of him, Kraglin couldn’t tear away from the eye contact between them. It was like Yondu had captured him in the murky blue of his irises, even as they got narrower and narrower.

“Oughta make it up to you,” Yondu breathed against his lips.

Kraglin only had enough time for his breathing to hitch before Yondu kissed him hard. He carelessly bumped his head against the wall, accepting the force Yondu was exerting on him. Yondu’s hands were all over him too now. One brushed over his left pec, just barely touching his nipple, and Kraglin couldn’t help but shudder. Yondu dipped into his tightening pants and only teased around where Kraglin would have liked him to touch. All the while Kraglin was pinned him where he was. It always felt so good when Yondu took charge, too damn good.

“Not right to leave you hangin’ this long, no matter what,” Yondu said, between heavy breaths. “But you been patient. How about y’get a lil’ somethin’ now and late tonight we see how long we can make it last?”

Kraglin let out a strangled cry, nodding and bucking into Yondu’s touch all the while.

He could feel Yondu smirk against his skin as he trailed his lips down his neck and over his collarbone, nipping at the skin. With practiced ease he started unbuttoning Kraglin’s pants, forcing his hand down further. Despite the near painful surge of arousal and the constant threat of Yondu actually breaking skin, it still felt familiar and- safe. Somehow. He knew beyond any doubt Yondu would always take care of him.

All Kraglin was left wondering was if he could really be a good caretaker. Kraglin could hardly take care of fish, let alone a kid. But when Yondu asked him to do something, it usually meant that he thought Kraglin could do it. If Yondu believed in him, then, somehow, some way, Kraglin knew that he could pull it off. He barely had time to fulfill the train of thought before Yondu started unbuttoning his own pants, his smirk growing, and, just like that, Kraglin’s mind went somewhere else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the headcanon that Kraglin is pretty damn good at math since the first movie, and I've been meaning to incorporate that into a fic for forever. Finally.


	8. Chapter 8

A day or two after Yondu showed him how to shoot a gun, he brought Peter out in front of his shed and started showing him how to skin a weasel. It was gross and kinda cool, but Yondu wasn’t letting him touch the skinning knife just yet.

“You’ll get there,” Yondu promised him. “But y’gotta start by watchin’.”

So Peter did. He watched the weasel’s guts come out, watching Yondu peel the skin off its muscles, watched him cut the head off and rinse the meat with a garden hose.

“This’ll be good in a stew,” Yondu told him, never looking up from what he was doing. “Might be a little thing, but weasels’re tough sons of bitches.”

“What’ll you do with the skin?” Peter asked.

“Sometimes I tan it, sell it to whoever’ll take it. Not much askin’ for weasel skin, get a lot more for deer or beaver.”

“Y’hunt beavers?”

“Sometimes, sure,” Yondu said, wrapping up the weasel meat in plastic wrap. “Meat can be alright, but the pelt’s what you want. ‘lotta people like hats from’em, but ain’t nothing like a beaver blanket.”

“You can make a blanket out of beavers?”

“Takes a while, but sure you can,” Yondu said, shrugging like it was nothing. “Made one for Kraglin not too long ago.”

“Show me how!” Peter pleaded. It felt like he’d been saying that a lot lately. Every time Yondu showed him something new and cool, he just wanted to know how to do it.

“Sure, I will,” Yondu said, “I’ll show you lotsa things when you’re ready.”

The way Yondu said it, Peter knew he wouldn’t get further, so he snorted and dropped it. Better to change the subject. Hearing Kraglin’s name reminded him of questions the had been in the back of his head since they’d taken him in.

“So. You and Kraglin, are you guys-?”

“Yup,” Yondu said before he could finish. “Whatever y’ask, ‘s prob’ly true.”

“I was gonna ask if you’re related.”

Yondu balked at him for a split second before bursting out in laughter. He kept on for what must have been a straight minute, bracing one hand against the wall of the shed.

“Yer funny, kid,” he finally managed, shaking his head. “Don’t let him hear y’talkin’ like that. And no, we ain’t. Far as I know.”

“How’d you get together then?” Peter asked. “And why’s he never go out with you?”

Yondu took the packed meat and started heading for the house before he answered.

“‘Cause he ain’t much of a hunter. Woods ain’t his home turf,” Yondu explained, shrugging. “Was born out in these parts myself. Found Kraglin in the city, scraping by on the streets.”

“Why’d you go there?” Peter asked. He couldn’t imagine Yondu needing to get anything from a city when he had so much right where he was. He hunted to feed himself and built his own stuff, so why should he?

“Ah, y’know, gotta get a job sooner or later.” Yondu hesitated and turned back to look at Peter. “Speaking of, I’m gonna be gone for a while. Got work to do.”

Peter stared up quizzically at him. “What kinda work?”

“Never you mind about that, kid, ‘s just work,” Yondu said, too quickly for questions not to pop up in Peter’s head. “Kraglin’s gon’ look after you.”

Peter frowned at that news. Kraglin was- well, it wasn’t like he was mean or anything, but it didn’t seem like he liked Peter all that much.

“Can’t I come with you?” he asked.

“Mm. Maybe one of these days, Peter, but not today,” Yondu answered, even if it just left Peter with even more questions. “Leavin’ tomorrow morning. Don’t give Kraglin a hard time while I’m gone, alright?”

Peter nodded slowly, his eyes drifting over to the peeling wood cabin. He knew he wouldn’t give Kraglin a hard time on purpose, but he still worried about spending time alone with him, without Yondu as a buffer. What did Kraglin even do all day?

Yondu must have seen his apprehension, because he patted his shoulder with a grin.

“Dontchu worry, Peter,” he said. “Kraglin’s got them teeth, but he ain’t much of a biter.”

Peter snapped his head up to Yondu’s, relieved to find him grinning even wider.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard, kid,” Yondu said, shaking his head. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, looking down at his feet. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“C’mon,” Yondu said, slapping Peter’s back. “Y’wanna get the weasel into the freezer?”

Peter had a sudden, vivid mental image of what Yondu’s freezer might be filled with, and all past uneasiness disappeared in an instant.

“Yeah, I do!” he cried, rushing ahead without even accepting the packed meat.

Maybe things would be alright after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the process of writing this chapter, I realized that the vast majority of Awesome Mix songs aren't, in fact, 80s tunes, but primarily 60s and 70s music. I don't know how I didn't notice that before, given that it should be obvious that Meredith would have grown up on that music and shared it with Peter as such. Maybe I'm just slow.

Just like he’d worried, Kraglin had no idea what to do.

Yondu had gone early that morning. He kissed Kraglin good-bye, told the kid to watch himself, and then he was gone just like that. Kraglin made breakfast like he usually did and he ate and Peter ate and nothing was said between them. It was so damn uncomfortable, but Kraglin didn’t know what to do about it. This was the kind of thing he usually let Yondu handle, and for good reason.

So he bunkered down in his and Yondu’s room and stewed over it. He guessed he didn’t have to do anything if he didn’t want to, but he kinda did want to. If Yondu was certain about letting the kid stay, they’d have to get used to each other sooner or later. But what could he do really? Well, it wasn’t the first time Yondu had trusted him to look after the house on his own, for one reason or another. So what did he usually do when Yondu left him on his own?

He read a lot. Sometimes inside, sometimes out. And he did his own book learning, figuring out numbers and ideas that he’d never had the chance to when he was younger. Yondu had always encouraged that. He liked being around Kraglin while he read, like it was cute or something. Kraglin wasn’t sure he understood that, but he didn’t worry on it. He just did what he liked doing.

Maybe Kraglin was overthinking this whole situation.

Kraglin picked out a couple books, taking his time choosing them. He left the textbooks alone - kid didn’t need to think he was a nerd - and eventually settled on The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Watership Down. He had no idea what the kid liked or even if he’d want to read, but having options was never bad. Kraglin stuck the books under his arm and grabbed his radio before pushing his way out into the living room.

Peter was there, just like he always was: sitting on the couch.

“I was thinkin’ t’go ’n sit by the pond,” Kraglin said, approaching him.

Peter looked up at Kraglin and blinked at him. Kraglin gave an uncertain half-smile and gripped his books harder.

“If y’wanna come, yer welcome to,” he added quickly before turning to head for the door.

He let out a heavy breath. That wasn’t so bad. He opened up the inside door before pushing the screen open, stepping outside into the afternoon sun. Maybe Peter would come, maybe he wouldn’t, Kraglin could always shut the door and-

On that thought, Kraglin heard a light thump on the floor followed by footsteps. Kraglin turned his head and found Peter trotting along behind him, carrying his walkman with him. Anxiety shot through Kraglin once again, but he wasn’t gonna let that get to him. He thought about saying something for a second. Something nice, anything really. Nothing came to him.

He held the screen open for Peter and, once they were both outside, let it shut behind him. Without any particular fanfare, Kraglin turned and made his way into the woods. Peter shuffled right on behind him, and Kraglin was sure that if Peter stopped or got off trail, he’d know right away. Kid didn’t exactly step lightly, and his music was loud enough that Kraglin might have been able to make out what it was. Bowie, if he wasn’t mistaken. It was enough that he was confident he wouldn’t lose Peter and get chewed out by Yondu.

It wasn’t a long walk to his pond spot. Kraglin had been to it enough times that he could have found it blindfolded. It was one of few places in the woods that didn’t get him turned around and confused and lost. How Yondu always seemed to just know his way around was a mystery to Kraglin.

The water was muddy and reedy plants were fighting for space in the sunniest spots. It wasn’t too big all around and definitely not too deep, but Kraglin had never seen it dry up all the way. The bullfrogs sure liked it enough to hang around and breed. Kraglin spotted tadpoles skittering around here and there, making ripples on the otherwise flat surface.

Kraglin settled down on the grass in front of the water. He gingerly placed the radio down next to him and crossed his legs, setting the books down in his lap. It didn’t take long for Peter to sit down on the opposite side of the radio, drawing his legs up against his chest and hugging them. Kraglin didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t do much at all at first. He sat there and watched and listened.

The birds had calmed down since morning. Chirps could still be heard on the regular, but it wasn’t the chorus that he woke up to all the time. The water was as still as it ever was, with only a few dragonflies buzzing around over it. It was all so calm and gentle.

So of course he had to flip on the radio and break that calm. Kraglin didn’t even need a minute to recognize what was playing: Queen. Don’t Stop Me Now. Real good pulse. Not exactly the best music for reading, but Kraglin wasn’t gonna complain.

Peter didn’t look to be complaining either. He was kinda- twitching along with the music, his head tilting just a bit. It was kinda funny, seeing as he was still wearing his headphones. Still Kraglin didn’t mind.

“You like Queen?” Kraglin asked, hardly even thinking about it.

Peter glanced at him, hesitating to answer.

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re alright.”

“I like’em pretty well. Music’s fun.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that. He seemed to have been distracted by a wood frog passing by. Kraglin half-smiled. It reminded him a bit of his own first time being out here. Everything was new and strange and interesting. Maybe Peter would take to it all better than he had, being just a kid. Yondu already seemed to have him firmly under his wing, so it wouldn’t have been much of a stretch.

Kraglin figured it was as good a time as any to start reading. Part of him wanted to start Hitchhiker’s again, but another part knew that he was supposed to be working through Watership. He gave into the latter sooner than later, opening the book up to where he’d left it. The bunnies had just run away from a creepy warren covered in traps. Kraglin wasn’t a stranger to eating rabbit, but it was eerie just the same.

“What’re you readin’?” Peter said, jolting Kraglin to attention.

“Uh.” He hadn’t actually expected that question from the kid. “It’s a book. ‘Bout- bunnies.”

“Bunnies?” Peter echoed. “Why bunnies?”

“Well. I guess the point is that nothin’s ever safe when you’re a bunny. I think. Haven’t finished it yet.”

“What’s the other one?” Peter pressed, and, again, Kraglin wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh, it’s-” Kraglin cut off with a chuckle. “’s kinda funny, that one. It’s about this guy, Arthur, and the world’s about to get destroyed, so he gets off it. But it’s weird how it all happens and kinda fun.”

Peter’s brow raised, giving away his lack of understanding.

“Can I see?” he asked.

“Well, sure,” Kraglin said, almost reflexively. No one had ever really been interested before. Not even Yondu, but that had more to do with Yondu not being much of a reader in general. “Just- be careful, alright?”

He handed the book over with a little uncertainty. Peter brought his legs down in front of him so he’d have room for the book before flipping it open to a random page. Kraglin watched for a bit, in a kind of tense certainty that Peter would get bored and put it aside. But, as the moments passed, he never did. Peter kept his eyes on the page, and as he turned to the next, Kraglin turned his attention back to his own material.

And that’s how it went on for a long while, the two of them reading as the radio crackled from Queen to Blondie to McCartney. The radio became familiar background noise after a while, underlying the rabbits’ journey to greener pastures and the hardships along the way.

It all came to a screeching halt at the sound of harsh static. Kraglin looked the side and found Peter turning the tuning dial. He was half inclined to tell Peter to stop and put it back, but he was curious. What was Peter looking for? He wasn’t just playing with the thing, he looked determined in his way. What he finally settled on gave Kraglin pause.

“Beatles?” he said, the word a question in itself. “Kids still listen to them?”

Peter shrugged and turned back to his book.

“Woulda taken you to be more into new stuff,” Kraglin said. “Used to hear them on the radio a lot more when I was younger, me’n my buddies jus’ hangin’ out.”

“They’re okay.” Somehow the way Peter said it made the band sound more than okay. “Really like the Stones more. But Helter Skelter’s pretty good.”

“I always liked Hey Jude. Made everything feel easier than it was.”

Peter gave him a funny sideways glance, but didn’t make any further comments. Kraglin didn’t think it was all that strange a choice. But then it didn’t really make much of a difference anyhow.

They carried on for a while longer, saying nothing and reading and listening. After a bit, though, Peter started fidgeting, like he was getting restless. He put the book aside and returned to his folded up posture, pulling his limbs in even tighter. Maybe he was cold. It didn’t feel cold to Kraglin, in fact, it was pretty warm for early Summer, but who knew what went on in the kid’s head?

All of a sudden, Peter spoke again.

“Sorry I bit you,” he said, resting his chin on his knees.

Kraglin blinked a couple times, staring at Peter and trying to think of what to say. He hadn’t thought a whole lot about that first night Peter had stayed with them since it happened. He hadn’t thought it was much to think about.

“Well. Sorry I yelled. And that I ain’t been all that friendly.” Kraglin looked away from him, picking at a clump of grass. “I never been good with people like Yondu is.”

“You don’t seem awful bad to me.”

Kraglin bit his lip, holding back a smile. That was real good to hear. He hadn’t expected it to be so good to hear, actually, and that made it even better.

“Yer jus’ sayin’ that ‘cause I have a radio, ain’tchu?” he teased, feeling confident for once.

“I mean. It doesn’t hurt.”

Kraglin burst out laughing, and in front of him Peter watched him wide-eyed for a moment before he, too, started giggling.

Their laughter echoed over the pond, scaring some pheasants that had been hiding in the reeds. The sight of the spooked birds, and the feathers they left behind, only had them laugh harder.

For the first time in quite some time, Kraglin felt at home and at ease again. Peter, to Kraglin’s surprise, seemed to share the sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That no Beatles songs have made their way into GotG so far is a crime. I'm sure it has something to do with Apple Records' rabid possessiveness of their music, but I know I'd kill to hear Rocky Raccoon in the movies somehow.
> 
> Now, the the final question: one or two remaining chapters? Need to figure out how I'm gonna do this.


	10. Chapter 10

About a week after he’d left, Yondu pulled up to the cabin in the late afternoon. He’d been in the city for business affairs, but had taken the time to acquire some raw building materials on his way back. Brick and mortar, stone, some lumber, everything he’d need to expand the house’s foundation. It wasn’t enough to finish the project he had in mind, but it was plenty to start with. Considering the heavy load, Yondu had left the Jeep in Jackson and traded for a pick-up.

Yondu stopped the truck about fifteen feet away from the cabin, angling its back towards the site he’d picked out. As soon as he stepped out, Kraglin and Peter were making their way over to him from the fire pit. It wasn’t anything like what he’d seen between them when he left. The two of them were walking close, side-by-side, like they’d been friends all along. He could hear Kraglin’s radio going even from where he was. Yondu had to smile at them both. He’d had a good feeling about leaving them alone together.

“Hey, baby,” Yondu said, spreading his arms as Kraglin approached.

Kraglin about leapt on him for an embrace. Yondu pecked him on the cheek, reacquainting himself with that familiar scent he had about him.

“Missed you,” Kraglin murmured under his breath.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Kraglin held him tight, but he let go just as easily as Yondu pulled back. That was good. Yondu had seen him needy and neglected before, and he wouldn’t have let Yondu get more than a step away from him then.

“Missed you too, kid,” he said, smiling down at Peter.

“Hey,” Peter said, smiling back, but stiffly, like he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Or maybe all his attention was just taken by the contents of the truck.

“Wha’s all that?” he asked, squinted up at it.

“Well,” Yondu started, considering his words carefully. He didn’t want to scare the kid or nothing. “Way I figure, if you’re gonna be stickin’ around, y’ain’t gonna wanna sleep in our sittin’ room forever.”

Peter froze in place. His gaze flicked from Yondu to the materials and back.

“Y’mean- my own room?”

“Mhm,” Yondu said, nodding like it was no big deal. “Couldn’t hurt to have some extra space neither.”

Peter gaped up at him, bewilderment and excitement and everything in between all coming through at once.

“I’d really like that,” he managed, breathlessly.

“Then how ‘bout I get changed and we can start working out the foundation right away.”

Peter nodded, maybe a little too fast. Yondu narrowed his eyes, but left it alone for the time being. Kid was probably just surprised.

“Gonna need you on this, Kraglin,” he added, looking back at Kraglin as he started towards the door. “Can’t say if my math turned out right or not.”

“Ah, your math’s fine,” Kraglin said, even as Yondu caught him flushing a bit. Cutest thing, that.

“You know it ain’t.”

Yondu didn’t let him reply to that as he pushed forward and headed inside. He’d rinse off and get on some good work clothes, and then they’d start the real work.

*****

“Yup, right about there,” Yondu said as Peter pushed another stone into place on the frame.

They weren’t even half done with it yet, but, for it was worth, it was a good time. Kraglin had done out the measurements, bless him, and marked exactly where the frame should go with chalk. He was standing by with a spirit level on hand, in case Yondu and Peter needed help. The radio had been brought over too, seeing as the two of them seemed to like that. Every now and again, some song would come on, and they’d exchange a knowing glance. It was nice, seeing them get along.

The sun was starting to set already, but that wasn’t any reason to stop just yet. What might have been, though, was how Peter just kept going slower and slower. He’d been fine handling the small stones at first, but Yondu had needed to take over on most of it after a while. Peter’s head kept drooping down and he grabbed at his stomach periodically. Yondu didn’t want to make him stop if he wanted to keep at it, but he didn’t want Peter overworking himself either.

It was Kraglin who asked the question first.

“You okay, Peter?”

Only then did Peter stop, but he wouldn’t look at Kraglin.

“Yeah,” he said, even short of breath and sounding very much not okay. “I just- can I go in and lay down?”

“‘Course you can,” Yondu said, pausing his work. “Go on, we’ll finish up here.”

They both watched Peter trudge away and walk inside. Only after the screen shut and Yondu heard the inside door get pushed to did either of them even think about speaking. Yondu looked at Kraglin and Kraglin looked at Yondu, and they were both having the same thoughts.

“He ain’t okay, is he?” Kraglin asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“No,” Yondu said. “No, I don’t believe he is.”

Kraglin stared forward, looking like he was lost. “What do we do?”

“We help him as best we can.”

Yondu came up to Kraglin and put an arm around him. If there was any time to be an anchor for him, it was now. They both knew what might happen eventually when they brought Peter home; now they had to face that possibility head on. All they could really do now was find comfort in each other, just like they always did.

*****

It wasn’t until long after dark that Yondu finally tried to talk to Peter again. He’d been laying on the couch for hours, and hadn’t even gotten up to eat. Yondu was starting to worry that he might really be sick. Sick how, Yondu wasn’t sure, but sick.

“How you doing, Peter?” he asked, coming to sit down next to him.

An uncertain grumble was his only answer.

Yondu reached out to touch Peter’s forehead, but didn’t find it any warmer than it should have been. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He glanced up to share a look with Kraglin, who was hanging back near the kitchen.

“I know somethin’s wrong.” Yondu said, uncharacteristically soft. “Suppose somethin’s been wrong since you got here. Y’don’t have to tell me any more about it, but it wouldn’t be any trouble if you did.”

He was met with silence this time.

“Well, if y’do wanna talk, I’m-”

“I wanna go,” Peter whimpered suddenly. “I’m sorry, I just- I want to.”

And there it was. His and Kraglin’s worries realized. He swallowed thickly and his jaw tensed up. Yondu didn’t like it, but he wasn’t in his rights to tell Peter no. He wasn’t even in his rights to have the kid around at all, morally or otherwise. So there was only one answer.

“Alright,” he said, nodding gravely. “Then we’ll leave in the morning.”

Peter grunted his acknowledgement, but nothing like relief came through in his face or how he was laying. He only curled in on himself even more, looking sicker than ever.

Yondu nodded again, to himself this time, and stood back up. He started making his way to the bedroom, but stopped halfway.

“Y’know it’s okay if you change your mind, right?” Yondu asked, though, it wasn’t a question. “If you decide y’do want to stay, then that’s fine. Won’t hold nothin’ against you, no matter what.”

Peter didn’t answer, but Yondu hadn’t expected him to. He left it there and pushed his way into his and Kraglin’s room, leaving the door open about halfway.

Kraglin didn’t follow him right away like he was used to. Instead he went over to Peter and took the walkman out of his bag. He messed with it for a moment, picking a song maybe, before leaving it next to Peter without a word. Yondu half-smiled at the sight. Kraglin never gave himself enough credit. Sure, Yondu was better at getting his way, but Kraglin had his own understanding of people. He sure understood Peter, on some level.

Yondu stepped away from the door and took his place on the bed. It wasn’t long before Kraglin came in and nudged the door shut behind himself. Yondu didn’t have to think twice. He opened his arms and gestured for Kraglin to come to him.

Kraglin controlled himself as he walked to Yondu, but the second he was on the bed, that control came apart. He buried his face in Yondu’s chest and clung on. Yondu just enveloped him in his arms, stroking gently over his scalp.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured. It wasn’t like Yondu didn’t hurt just the same, but Kraglin was Kraglin and he needed a rock.

So they sat like that, and Kraglin cried, and Yondu held him, and they were there for each other. It wasn’t something either of them wanted to need to do, but they did sometimes, and that was alright.

It took a good long while, but finally Kraglin drifted off to sleep. Yondu pulled the throw over both of them, hoping that Peter got some sleep as well.

Tomorrow was gonna be a long one.


End file.
